


last ones out

by heather_in_hell



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, Musical focused with dashes of the movie here and there, Slightly stalker JD, Smut, a bit of angst, cursing, kind of ooc i guess, sex under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 00:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15740097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heather_in_hell/pseuds/heather_in_hell
Summary: The night isn't looking so great for an angry and hurt Veronica, but she doesn't have to go through it alone. An alternative version to how Dead Girl Walking could have gone.





	last ones out

**Author's Note:**

> hello! just a warning that like Heathers the Musical, this fic contains sex while Veronica is under the influence of alcohol. it's not enough to garner her unable to consent, but i understand some people are sensitive to this topic, so take this as a trigger warning if you're uncomfortable reading stories with sex and alcohol involved. also, this fic was inspired by the song Two Slow Dancers by Mitski. the title is also a lyric from the song. (i highly recommend the song if you haven't heard it already, Mitski is a songwriting goddess and her new album is FIRE)

Her bee line for the door is less than graceful but all quick movements as she keeps her head down and rushes past the crowd of staring eyes. Some don’t even notice or care, resuming their game of beer pong or their make out session with their biology classmate on the couch. But most people heard it: Heather Chandler’s decree of death on Veronica’s short life.

 

_No one at Westerberg is gonna want to play your reindeer games._

 

Veronica makes it out of the house somewhat alive, the alcohol blurring her brain into a bleeding watercolour painting of blue and red. She ignores the few party goers hanging around outside smoking and making small talk who are blissfully unaware of her death sentence that happened inside just moments ago. She pauses on the steps of the porch to take a long breath and fill her tired lungs with cold air when she sees him.

 

He’s standing on the sidewalk across the front lawn, his hands stuffed into his pockets and blending into the night, and she almost mistakes him for a shadow or a hallucination. He’s gazing down at his feet when he abruptly looks up as though he’s sensed her eyes on him, and he catches her confused stare with a flashing grin that sends butterflies through her core, most definitely not from the alcohol this time. Her legs carry her toward him on their own accord.

 

“What are you doing here?” she asks, stumbling slightly over the concrete driveway and her own tipsiness.

 

JD shrugs. “I thought everyone was invited to this party?”

 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d be caught dead here,” she replies, stopping in front of him. He sees her face clearly underneath the yellowish streetlight. Her lipstick is so faded that it looks like she’s bitten her lips raw.

 

“I guess I figured I should get to know the town,” he says. Veronica squints her eyes suspiciously.

 

“Did you follow me here?” she asks. “You did, didn’t you? After I left 7-Eleven?” 

 

His eyes dart to his lower left and he bites the inside of his cheek in an attempt to hide his sneaky smile. “Would you be angry if I told you yes?”

 

When he says this, Veronica doesn’t know what happens to the take-no-shit-from-men woman she was an hour ago as she fended off horny boys wanting nothing but to get underneath her dress with lame pick up lines. Because she knows she should be creeped out. But she isn’t. And JD’s not a figment of her imagination. He’s so much realer than any of those people inside. 

 

She answers his question with a question. “Is it weird if I say no?”

 

He shrugs again. “If you want my opinion, definitely not.”

 

Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s him, but she feels bold and reaches out to gently push his arm. “You came all this way to see me?” 

 

“It was only a fifteen-minute walk from the 7-Eleven, so I’d hardly call it a treacherous journey,” he says, and she laughs. “But, in all honesty, you didn’t seem impressed to be going to this thing. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t show up to try and talk you out of self-inflicted suffering?”

 

She shakes her head in mock disbelief. “Or you’re a stalker and I should be worried about you.”

 

“Think what you want. I’d rather be a someone to you than a no one,” he says with a wink. Her cheeks go warm, and she’s so, so thankful to not be alone right now.

 

 

They begin walking in the general direction of her house but without a rush in their steps. She tells him all about Chandler and her plans to burn her at the stake, how they’re her friends but not at all, how her handwriting skills can only get her out of so many situations. Somewhere in the story, she finds herself using his arm as a crutch to steady the small weight in her head anchoring her forward.

 

“I’m not sure what to expect on Monday,” Veronica says. “No one’s ever infiltrated the Heathers before, therefore no one’s ever gotten kicked out. I’m like a guinea pig experiment thing. We’re in unprecedented territory.”

 

“What’s the worst that can happen?” he asks, trying to keep up with her irregular pace which quickens and slows depending on what part of her story she’s at. “She exiles you. So what? Life goes on.”

 

“That’s easy for you to say,” she scoffs. “I’ve known these people my whole life. It’s not just banishment from a group we’re talking about, it’s intense public scrutiny and untrue rumours about me for the rest of the year until I can get out of this place. And besides, you wouldn’t know what that’s like. You move around too much.”

 

His silence puts a lump in her throat and she realizes she’s struck a sensitive chord. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

 

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Perhaps you’re right. But I also don’t care enough about high school politics to let that shit bother me.”

 

“Hmph,” she huffs. “Lucky you, Mr. Cool Guy.”

 

“That’s certainly the nicest name I’ve ever been called,” he says with a smirk. “And the most…creative.”

 

“What a shame. I’m afraid Westerberg doesn’t have very much niceness to offer.”

 

“Good thing I met the best of Westerberg right off the bat, then,” he says smoothly without missing a beat. Warm chills gather at the nape of Veronica’s neck and disperse down her back and shoulders like a hot shower.

 

“How do you do that?” she looks up at him and the streetlights they’re passing under cast shadows below his eyes, looking like he hasn’t slept in days, which Veronica imagines is most likely true. She lets herself wonder what he looks like in his bed; sitting at the edge of it late at night or pacing back and forth beside it. Her hazy and brave mind wants to know what laying in a bed with him and not sleeping would be like.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Just…say things like that and sound so normal about it. Like you’re not afraid of how people will react, whether it’s good or bad. It’s kind of charming.”

 

She stumbles a bit as she says it and JD tightens his arm around hers as her weight staggers. “And I think you're kind of drunk,” he says amusedly. “And you can talk pretty boldly too, Sawyer. Just keep an eye on your fancy footwork there.”

 

Veronica lets go of his arm and skips a few steps ahead of him. “Why, not much of a dancer?”

 

“I can’t say that I am,” he says. “Something tells me you are, though.”

 

“When I’m feeling brave, I guess.” She playfully walks backwards facing him like a mischievous woodland creature leading him down a secret path. “Kind of like how I’m feeling now.” She reaches her hand out toward him and wiggles her fingers.

 

He smiles and rolls his eyes in an “ah, what the hell” sort of way as he takes her hand. She raises their hands in the air to form an arch, taller on his side due to his height, and twirls under it without much elegance but not without charm. He laughs.

 

“Easy, Ginger Rogers,” he says as she twirls a second time. “I’m no Fred Astaire.”

 

They’re approaching Veronica’s house. She steers them to where the sidewalk curves into a corner, still holding JD’s hand with a light grip.

 

“Thanks for walking me home,” she says. “Thanks for showing up at all.”

 

“You’re welcome for the latter, but I didn’t really have a choice for the former, did I? You might’ve ended up a raging mess on the sidewalk.”

 

“Shut up,” she laughs, but then is reminded by him why she’s angry in the first place. Despite the flirty walk home with a cute boy and the fact that her cheeks are beginning to hurt from smiling, her execution date is still set for Monday morning, and all her emotions come flooding back to her in a tangled, icky mess.

 

They come to stop in front of her house. She lets go of his hand and looks up at him in the dim glow of the empty street. He’s saying something, but she can’t hear on account of how she’s watching his mouth form around his words and the longer she stares, the more the palms of her hands itch with the urge to touch him and she swallows the anger and desperation down, down, down.

 

“Well, I guess now I know where you live,” he says with a smirk. “I don’t live too far from here either, though I guess that’s to be expected in a small t-”

 

He doesn’t finish because Veronica is balling her fist up in the front of his shirt and pulling him forward, reaching up on her tip toes and catching his lips with hers firmly, sure of herself and wanting. She feels him straighten his shoulders, clearly taken aback, but he quickly relaxes into it and slowly mirrors the enthusiasm in her mouth.

 

They pull apart. “That was…unexpected. Albeit more than welcome,” JD says with a hushed, husky voice, sending warmth blooming through Veronica’s core.

 

“Shh,” she slurs, pressing a finger to his lips. He looks at her with spellbound eyes, like the street and drive way and house and town are gone and Veronica is all that is left. “Enough with the fancy talk. Just kiss me.”

 

She pulls him back in and takes his bottom lip between hers, sighing when a moan catches in his throat and his hands slide down her shoulders and to her waist. She places her hands on either side of his face and feels his sharp jawline with trembling fingertips. Taking his hand once more, she runs to her porch with JD in tow, giggling now that he’s the one stumbling over himself. Her mouth is back on his as soon as they climb the few steps on the porch, squishing their lips clumsily together. He presses her against the door with a dull thud when the realization hits him.

 

“Shit, are your parents home?” he whispers without fully taking his mouth off of hers, not wanting to part from her for a second. Veronica glances at the drive way behind him and sees the lack of a vehicle parked in it.

 

“Probably out,” she says. _They wouldn’t even notice if I walked past them in the living room dragging a boy upstairs by a leash around his neck_ , she thinks as she tangles her fingers in his hair and kisses him again, languid and deep and hard and accidentally arousing herself further at the thought of that image. Fuck the neighbours if they see.

 

JD presses his hips against hers so that she’s flush against the door and she groans in heated delight, heart thumping in her chest so rapidly and loudly that she's sure the whole town can hear it. And she wants it to. Let them all know they didn't yet break her and she's so, so ready for what's about to happen.

 

“Hey, Veronica,” JD breathes in between kisses, “Uh, you sure you’re okay with this?” She mentally gives herself a pat on the back for the way his voice shakes when she drags her hand delicately down his throat. She has the cool, suave, beautiful boy in the palm of her hands, all hers to do with whatever she pleases.

 

“Gee, I think I’ll have to reconsider,” she says while gently nipping his bottom lip with her teeth. His breath hitches.

 

“I just mean that you were – and are – clearly drunk.”

 

“Relax, JD. I’m not wasted.”

 

“You-”

 

“I know who I am, JD,” she says, grasping his face between her hands and looking him in the eyes. “And now I know you. And I’m not going to wake up tomorrow morning and regret any of this, and whether I’ve consumed alcohol in the past few hours or not isn’t going to change that.” Her face is tinted blue from the lack of light, and the sight makes his mouth wet.

 

Veronica grabs one of his hands circled around her middle and brings it rest over her right breast, his fingertips just grazing the exposed part of her neck where her shirt doesn't cover. He’s gaping at her in astonishment and wonder, like he didn’t expect such a pristine, popular princess to be so forward with him. It makes her want to belly laugh like an animated supervillain in victory.

 

“Can't you see how much I want you?” she whispers, lips right next to his ear. “Don’t you want me, too?”

 

Her words nearly drive him to insanity. “I do,” he chokes. “I do. So much.”

 

It’s him who kisses her this time, so deeply that she swears she sees stars behind her eyelids. Somehow, after some time, she manages to let them both into the house where there are no signs of her parents in sight, as expected. She takes him by the hand and leads him up the stairs and they laugh when she falls on the steps. JD holds her by the hips and helps her stand back up.

 

“Not wasted, huh?” he teases. Her laughter reverberates throughout the empty house, bounces off the walls and ceiling and echoes in JD’s ears. Veronica pushes the door to her room open, leans as seductively as she can against the threshold, and beckons JD with her index finger in a come-hither manor. He smiles at her sexy ridiculousness and in a second, he takes two short strides and crashes their mouths together, gathering her in his arms and kicking the door shut behind him.

 

They undress in the dark with only the subdued moonlight seeping through the window beside her bed providing any sort of a light source. Veronica listens to the sound of shoes hitting the floor and the sliding fabric of their clothes and the zipper on JD’s pants unzipping. The subtlety of them only add to the desire swimming through her bloodstream. She places her hands on JD’s bare chest and pushes him back onto her bed. He bounces and leans up on his elbows, smiles up at her excitedly, eager to touch her, to feel her.

 

Veronica wordlessly climbs up and straddles his waist, leaning down to his level and about to press her lips to his when he sighs, “I’m so lucky.”

 

Her heart swells a thousand sizes bigger, so much that it feels like it’ll burst out of her chest. It’s such a simple sentiment, and she could make a sarcastic remark about how he’s exaggerating. Instead, she smiles sweetly at him, knowing he can still see it in the darkness, and strokes her hand down his face gently in a soft, small gesture of _thank you_ before capturing his lips yet again.

 

She’s glad he seems to understand that she wants to take control, though she doesn’t reject his curious hands which caress her body and feel her in all the places she wants to be felt, and his mouth on her neck, in between and under her breasts, her shoulders and behinds her ears and on her lips, sparking electricity, hot and alive. She’s on top of him the whole time, and he wants to give her that, give her the power to hold him down by the wrists above his head and bite on his collarbones with enough force for him to cry out in pleasure, lets her grind and pull and scratch with as much anger and passion as she can release. The awkward bump and hushed giggle here and there doesn’t stop that.

 

When he’s inside her and his hands are making fists in her hair at her demand, tugging back with increasing pressure and he can see the sweat on her forehead and pink on her cheeks glowing through the darkness, he swears there must be some form of a God. Not the one in the Bible or the few times he was forced to go to Sunday school as a kid, but one embodied through her and the way she makes love to him; one that exists in her fingernails and eyelashes and the bends of her elbows and knees, in the curves of her hips and slopes of her shoulders, in the ringing of her laughter and warmth of her smile. One that can only be prayed to in the tangled sheets of her bed. One that looks at him like he’s equally being worshipped.

 

Later, they lay in a heap of tired limbs, face to face and both in a state of happy disbelief.

 

“Well,” Veronica says, breaking the comfortable silence, “thank you for that.”

 

JD laughs into the pillows, the muffled noise vibrating through Veronica’s chest. “The pleasure is all mine. You pursued me, after all.”

 

“Ew, don’t say the word ‘pursued’,” she grimaces. “That sounds like I’m a lion or something and you’re my prey. It’s too weird.”

 

“Your prey? Sounds hot,” he grins, and Veronica laughs. He stares at her, body half-concealed by the sheets, short hair just barely grazing her shoulders, skin looking just as soft as it feels now that he’s gotten to touch it. Perhaps he’s being naïve and it’s too early to tell anything in this state, but he kind of, sort of, just maybe feels like he’d do anything for her.

 

“I can’t…really believe you’d want to…you know,” he murmurs, “be with me.”

 

Her head pokes up from the sheets, a surprised and questioning look on her face, but she melts at his soft face with his slightly furrowed brow and how absolutely, stunningly perfect he looks nestled in her bed. She reaches out and runs a hand through his hair, down the side of his face.

 

“It’s because you’re beautiful,” she tells him. He feels it. He believes it. But he can’t help but shake his head.

 

“That would be you, my darling,” he says in a low, gravelly voice, almost too low for her to hear but enough for her to feel. A small garden of wildflowers feels like it blooms in her heart at his term of endearment. “Do you feel better now?” he asks.

 

She inches closer to him and hitches her leg over his hip, reeling herself in until they’re pressed together. “I mean, what I have to deal with is far from over,” she replies. “But that can wait. I’m here now. That’s what matters most.”

 

He grins with the full, burning power of the sun and runs his hand gently up and down her hip to her thigh soothingly. Veronica beams back at him, getting to experience being at JD’s vulnerable, exposed side in a sleepless bed after all.

**Author's Note:**

> sidenote: i am trash and i use the same tropes and metaphors and descriptions in all of my fics, but i think the paragraph about JD and God may be my fav thing i've written (regarding fanfiction, anyway) thanks for coming to my ted talk  
> *also another thing: i forgot to put this in the fic and i'm sure it goes without saying, but Veronica is on the pill in this! perhaps i'll go back and add it in later but i'm lazy rn


End file.
